The Course of Time
by Deona Lindholm
Summary: The Course of Time can be diverted in one direction or another, but it cannot be changed completely. Deathfic. Revised slightly to clarify something.


_The Course of Time_

Author's Note: This is in response to the "Starlit" and the "Retire" fanfic challenges in The Kittchen at LiveJournal. Keep in mind, I've never written a fic like this before, so if I mess it up, please bear with me.

Sorry… 

That single word that he heard was the first thing that made him aware. Aware of his location (wherever that was) he was, aware of disorientation…

As he looked about him, he saw that he was floating…floating in darkness. Peaceful, painless, darkness…with only a faint, thrumming sound, almost…like a slow heartbeat.

_How did I get here…? What happened…?_

He closed his eyes, although he couldn't tell the difference between closed eyes and the environment around him. He started to think, _What did I feel, what did I hear…and why did I just say "Sorry"?_

After a long moment, something tickled the edge of his mind, and he tried to bring it to the forefront.

_Warm…something warm and strong surrounding me, the sound of running water, like a brook or river…and rain. There was rain falling on me, and something feather-light on my face for a second._

…_me? Just…just what is going on?_

"You're here."

He turned all around, trying to find the source of the voice, a female voice, but all he could see was the darkness.

_Am I losing my mind…? There's nobody here…is there?_

"No, you're not going mad. Look in front of you."

He did as he was told, looking carefully.

At first, all that he could see was the same darkness….and then, distantly at first, was the glow of stars…lots of stars against a black sky. Even if he were here forever, he couldn't count them all.

_A starlit sky?_

"You can speak, you know…if you still remember how. Try it."

"A starlit sky?"

"Good! Now, look at the sky closer."

He nodded at peered closer, and eventually, he saw a section of the sky actually _shimmer_, then move.

The shimmering part moved closer to him, taking on a more solid form with every step. Once the being stopped moving, he could see just what, or who it was.

The being in front of him was a woman, a rather tall one. She had long, midnight-black hair that went down to the middle of her back, and skin that was as pale white as ivory. In wind, the hair would ripple like a field of grass or even water. She had matching black eyes, a shapely figure that was well developed, yet seemed to speak of a hidden strength. She wore a ankle-length, dark blue evening dress with a modest V neckline, complete with puffy sleeves and a type of sequin, maybe glitter, that made one think of stars. In one hand was a silver and blue object that looked like an 8 that was stretched out a little too far at the ends.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name," she answered, her voice firm yet warm, with a hint of music to it, "Is Millennia. I am the Governess of Time."

He blinked then chuckled. "I seem to remember something about Chronos being involved with time, not a woman…and that was in myths…"

He half expected her to be angry, though he didn't know why. Instead, though, she looked bemused.

"Not exactly true. Yes, Chronos is Father Time, but I am merely the Governess. I watch over the streams of time, the souls that inhabit this world…such as yourself."

He nodded. It seemed to make sense, but he didn't know how. "All right, Millennia, maybe you can answer some questions for me. Like what am I doing here…wherever this is? Why is it when I became aware, I was hearing the word 'Sorry'?"

She looked at him with a curious expression, then asked, "Before that word, or around that time, tell me everything you experienced. A sound, a sense of touch…something?"

"Yeah…there was something warm and strong surrounding me. Also, a sound…sounded like running water, like a brook or stream…maybe river…and it was raining. Slow drops at first, but more of it fell on me, until it was a rainstorm. And something like a feather on my face."

Millennia nodded and raised her staff, which began to give off a soft, blue glow.

"This look familiar?" she asked quietly.

He turned around…and his eyes widened when he looked at the image before him. There were two people in it, and they looked transparent. An audible gasp came out of his mouth.

"Now do you remember…Michael…?"

The other person in this place, Michael, nodded, "Yeah…it's starting to come to me now…My partner was undergoing some tests for new equipment…and I thought about going out and relaxing for once. _He_ decided to go with me, and I definitely didn't mind. I had to admit, considering where he came from and where I come from, we actually managed to find a restaurant that we both liked. We didn't talk about work, for once…instead, stuff like old war experiences, embarrassing childhood hijinks, Wilton Knight…and something that I'm surprised we have in common: stars and constellations."

She nodded and gestured with a hand to continue.

"We decided, on the spot, to go visit the planetarium. I still remember us taking turns at a telescope. It was pretty fun, and I know he enjoyed himself, too."

He then winced, his head suddenly hurting. He grabbed it and shook it as if to fight off something.

"No," she said quietly, "Don't fight it, Michael…"

He heard Millennia's voice and the view changed before him.

000000000000000

Michael and the man that he saw as a father were exiting the planetarium, which was closing for the night.

"My, how time seems to fly. I wasn't aware that it was close to 11," he replied, British accent bemused.

"I didn't know either. Think we'll have trouble with the guards when we get back?"

"Oh, nonsense, Michael. Who would I get in trouble with, the Executive Director?"

That raised eyebrows, and the younger man said, "Was that a joke I heard out of you just now?"

"Come now, you must have been hearing things," he replied in a more reproachful tone.

"Oh, my mistake. We'd better get back soon, though. I know Kitt and Bonnie will be ready in the morning for us."

"Along with your next case. But yes, we should retire for the night."

There was a quiet moment before Michael said, "Devon…I know I'm a pain most of the time, especially at the beginning…but—"

The older man shook his head and said quietly, "I admit, I hated you at first…but that's far behind us in the past, and I certainly don't feel that way any longer. You're very dear to me, Michael, as a son…and I care for you very much."

There was a quiet smile between them, then Devon squeezed Michael's shoulder, followed by a firm pat, which was returned by the younger man.

The two of them started the walk across the field to the area where Devon had parked his car. They were three-fourths of the way there when Michael saw something a short distance away from the vehicle…the shine of moonlight on a metal barrel, a faint outline…and the metal item was aimed right at them.

_No, on **him**, _he thought, and he knew what was about to happen.

Michael said nothing and moved directly in front of the older man.

"What—" Devon was about to ask when he heard sharp reports…three of them.

The younger man jerked three times, one for each report…then began to collapse to the ground.

"Michael!" Devon exclaimed and caught him, then kneeled slowly as he lowered them both to the ground. He felt his hand, which was on the young man's side, grow warm…and wet.

"Michael, you're hurt!"

"Couldn't let him…shoot you."

The Englishman examined him closely and quickly. There were two bullet wounds in the front, and one in the side, a short ways from the heart. Michael coughed a little and a small stream of blood trickled down his mouth.

"No," the younger man could hear his voice become quiet and torn, "No. Michael…God, no…why!"

"They…didn't hit you…"

Devon nearly told him to save his strength, yet he knew that it would not have done any good. He was dying, and this time there was no way to stop it.

The older man fully sat on the ground and held Michael close to him, not caring if blood got onto his outfit or not, and simply gazed into his face.

A single teardrop fell, landing on the younger man's face. Seeing it, he brushed it away with a finger. A second later, another fell, followed by more. Within moments, they fell at a rate so fast that Devon gave up trying to stop it.

Michael looked at him, even though his vision was going, and slowly raised a hand to lightly touch the Englishman's face. The tears spilled down his fingers.

"Devon…I'm…"

Devon heard something, felt a rush of breath against his shoulder, and then nothing else. The hand touching his face dropped to the ground, and the head leaned against him.

"Michael…?" his voice was quiet, yet torn as he asked.

There was no answer.

As he shook the younger man gently, he called out his name, his voice breaking more with every try…and that was when he felt the form in his arms begin to become cold.

Devon opened his mouth and took a deep breath…that cut into him and turned into a mournful sound.

Michael and Millennia watched as Devon held the body tightly, his sobs wracking him from deep within.

"That's what happened," he said, "A sniper, someone that wanted him dead…I got in front of Devon and took the bullets in his place."

"Yes," she replied, "Two bullets entered in the front, one lung apiece…and the third missed the heart, but hit a vital organ. At least…it was quick."

"Michael…" they heard amidst the weeping.

"And that word, 'sorry'…I was trying to tell Devon that I was sorry…because of—"

She nodded.

"Millennia…doesn't the Grim Reaper, or whatever his name really is handle the dead?"

"Usually, Thanatos does," she agreed, "But…you and another are special cases. You've done well for humanity… I've come here to take you and the other to a place…a place that is at peace….and for you, it means no pain or strife ever again. Do not worry, the sniper will face justice for this night."

He nodded, then asked, "I assume asking you to reverse time is out of the question?"

"You'd be right," she answered, shaking her head, "I am not Chronos…and even I cannot change things at a whim." There was a sigh before she said, "The course of time has a beginning point, a stream, as well as a place it empties into at the end…and while it can be diverted a little in one direction or another…it cannot become something else—" She then looked in front of her. "Oh!"

Michael turned from Millennia. His body that was in Devon's arms faded into mist that eventually dissipated…and then the Englishman himself began to become misty, then transparent, then misty again…

A moment passed, the man was completely mist…and then a split-second later, he changed. Devon was not misty, but not transparent, either. He was as solid as Michael and Millennia.

His eyes opened and he looked at them, puzzled for a moment, before he recognized the younger man.

"Michael…? Is that you, Michael?"

Michael looked at Millennia, who nodded. He then hurried over to Devon and helped him up.

The older man gazed at him then lightly touched his shoulder, disbelieving at first...then surprised him with a sudden squeeze to the shoulder that was returned.

"Yeah, it's me. But…if you're here and you see us…are you the other one she mentioned?"

She nodded, "Apparently so."

"How?"

Millennia looked bemused at them, then replied, "Although most don't believe it, it is possible for grief to bring it about."

"Yes…I was holding the body tight, weeping when I felt something deep inside of me just…pop, or burst."

Both nodded, and Millennia said, "It's time…Michael, you can explain it on the way."

"Explain what?"

"Where we're going…and I think Wilton's there, too, waiting for us."

000000000000000

By morning, all of the Foundation had heard the news: At 11 PM, Michael Knight had taken three gunshot wounds, all to vital organs, and died within moments. When the body was found, Devon's held it in a tight grip…one that was a bit hard to get loose, what with rigor mortis. That by itself brought pain to RC, Bonnie and Kitt…who had been close to Michael, in one way or another.

The other half of the news staggered them, as well as everyone else: Minutes after Michael was killed, Devon Miles had died…and the cause of his death had been puzzling. In the end, it was decided that, as silly as it sounded, the grief had been rather deep, and his heart simply…stopped. Died of a broken heart, as it was. Within a couple of days, the sniper had been arrested, thanks to what was left of the Foundation.


End file.
